Feathers

by Rose Mannering

  The visions seemed unconnected, but Ode felt that there must be something that brought them together. They were gradually becoming more vivid as the nights wore on and a sense of foreboding lingered at their edges. Ode awoke each morning and glanced at Cala, who was already awake and watching him. She did not ask what he saw, but Ode knew that she could feel it, too. They both were waiting for something unspoken.

  One late spring morning, as the surface of the lake beside the settlement winked in the sunlight and the animals grazed at its banks, a scream sounded through the air. It was followed by yells and shouts, which made Arrow’s fur bristle and his haunches tighten. Ode paused in his stroll beside the bank of the lake and looked across the flat land at the cloud of mustang horses charging toward them. At first, he feared that the herd was wild, but then he made out the figure of his father sitting astride his piebald stallion and galloping onward with purpose. Arrow lifted his head and smelled the breeze before opening his jaws in a soft howl. He could smell blood.

  The hunters were not due back today, and the tribe instantly knew that something was wrong. More screams sounded, and women and children rushed from their tents, whispering fervently to the spirits. Ode joined their huddle, staying at the back, and waited until the hunters stormed into the settlement, halting abruptly in a surge of dust.

  Gray Morning vaulted from the saddle, his brow knotted with anger. He had scratches up his arms and across his chest, but otherwise he looked unscathed. However, it was clear from the blood splattered across his cheek and the dirt smudged over his torso that he had been fighting. Beside him, Blue Moon jumped off his palomino stallion in a similar state.

  As the other hunters arrived, tribeswomen began to wail and cry. Ode saw that four bodies were slumped across their mustangs, the horses’ coats matted with blood. One tribesman was still alive and Cala appeared from the crowd, commanding that they take him to her tent immediately.

  “What has happened?” she asked Gray Morning as the wounded tribesman was carried away.

  “It was a beast,” growled the chief, over the crying and wailing of the tribe. “A beast the likes of which I have never seen before.”

  Cala frowned and turned away to tend to the wounded. Ode knew that he should follow, but he wanted to find out more. This did not seem like a typical bear attack. The Taone hunters were experienced and skilled; it must have been an exceptional beast to defeat them.

  Ode slid through the wailing crowd to Blue Moon, who was standing beside his palomino stallion, looking bewildered. Rippling River rushed from the crowd and threw her arms around his neck, showering his cheek with kisses. Ode held back and waited for his brother to send her away before he approached.

  “Greetings, brother. I am more than pleased to see you still alive,” Ode said.

  Blue Moon jumped at the sound of Ode’s voice. “I’m pleased also,” he said. “I thought for a moment that the spirits would take me.”

  “What happened?”

  Blue Moon wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “It was a beast,” he said quietly. “I have never seen anything like it before.”

  “But what did it look like?”

  “It was … huge. We thought we’d take it unaware and bring it back for a feast, but it knew we were coming.”

  “Yes?”

  “And it … spoke.”

  “What did it say?”

  Blue Moon shook himself and turned away to pat his horse. “You should lay low, brother,” he said. “The hunters are uneasy, and we have lost men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You make them uneasy. And no one will relax with your wolf around all this blood.”

  Ode glanced at Arrow, who stood patiently in the shadow of a tent, away from the chaos of the settlement. His green eyes glittered in the gloom.

  “Go and help the wounded,” said Blue Moon. “They will thank you for that, and they will remember it.”

  They are my people, too, Ode wanted to shout, but he knew it was no use.

  Rippling River appeared with a skin of water for her partner, and Ode hurried away. He followed the outskirts of the settlement to Cala’s tent and stopped to stare at the people bunched outside. He was tempted to feel bitter. These same people had ignored him every day as they passed by the store or next to the fires. They had laughed at him and whispered about him. They had all but banished him, and yet now they looked his way with hopeful eyes.

  Ode signaled for Arrow to wait and the wolf settled himself at a distance beside the lapping shore of the lake. With a sigh, Ode strode through the crowd and into the tent, determined to help.

  That night Ode dreamed of a battle. He saw tribesmen of the Taone charging in an unknown land against beasts that were terrifying and strange. He saw his people cut down by their enemies and left to die in the dust. He saw his father bellowing war cries that were drowned by the screams of the battle before he was pulled off his piebald stallion and beaten into the ground.

  Blood splattered everywhere, pooling onto the unfamiliar landscape of rocks and rubble. Ode could smell its metallic tang and he could even taste it on his lips. He could hear the thunder of hooves, the cries of death, the beat of the tribal drums, and the almighty roars that were louder even than the screams of mountain lions or the rumbles of grizzly bears. It was in that moment that Ode knew the Taone had lost.

  The vision changed, and Ode found himself in a tent that was large and rickety. He could see a woman with gray hair talking to an old man. They were not people of a tribe, for their skin was olive like the pale brown of a leaf at the end of summer and they had no patterns etched on their faces.

  “No one can tell where she is,” said the woman, her fingers knotted together in her lap. “My daughter has disappeared. I found her in Sago, and I tried to bring her here, but she escaped. She did not want to come.”

  The old man sighed. He wore stained robes and his hair and beard were pale and long. “Asha, she will come. You have read the scripture,” he replied.

  “Then where is she?”

  There was a silence and the vision flickered before Ode’s eyes. He knew that they could not see him. His spirit was in the room watching them, but his body still rested soundly elsewhere.

  “We have spoken of this already,” said the old man. “She will come when the time is right—when she has gathered an army among her people in the Hillands. We cannot tell when this will happen, but it will.”

  “But I do not have long….”

  The old man frowned. “But—”

  “I am happy to go,” Asha said, though her voice quivered. “I always thought that I might meet him once more, but now I find that I do not care. I only wish … I only wish that I could see my daughter again.”

  A tear snaked down her cheek, and the old man bent forward to take her hand. “You did the right thing,” he began. “She can stop him. She will understand when she—”

  A commotion sounded outside and a creature ran into the tent. It was built like a bear with thick muscles and a brown, shaggy coat, but it had wings curled across its back.

  “There has been an attack,” it said.

  Asha gasped and staggered to her feet. “From the sea?” she asked. “There have been no warnings of it!”

  “No, from the forest. We were hunting, and we were set upon.”

  “Are any hurt?”

  “Just one. He is being tended to.”

  “Do you think they will attack again?” asked the old man.

  “I believe they will, Professor.”

  Asha and the professor exchanged a glance.

  “Will they talk to us?” Asha asked.

  “I doubt it. Do you have a blanket?” the creature said.

  Asha nodded and grabbed a piece of cloth. She held it out in her hand, and both she and the professor turned their heads away as the creature began to shake. It twisted and trembled as its body shrank and snapped. Its claws disappeared and its fur fell away until there was a man in
its place who took the blanket and wrapped it around his naked body.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  The man had shifted, and Ode awoke gasping with the shock of it. The amber dawn burst upon his eyes, washing the vision away. Ode saw that he was in Cala’s tent, as always, and that Arrow lay at his feet. It was early and his auntie was missing. Though the walls of the tent were burning with the first light of the day, Ode could hear voices and the footfalls of a crowd outside.

  He sat up and touched the white feather that hung around his neck. It felt warm.

  There are others like me, he thought and it brought a smile to his lips because he knew that what he had seen was true.

  “Hya–Hya–Hya!” sounded from outside, followed by a gurgle of wails.

  At Ode’s feet, Arrow growled softly.

  Ode pulled on his tunic and walked out of the tent. In the middle of the settlement, a mass of people had gathered. Young and old, they circled Gray Morning, who stood with Blue Moon at his side in the morning light. Ode saw that the chief was wearing his ceremonial crown of feathers, which trailed down his back in a cascade of beads, threads, and russet and white plumes. It sent a chill of worry through Ode, and he hurried to join the crowd.

  “It has been a long time since we have battled,” Gray Morning was saying, his deep voice booming across the lake stretched out beside them, silent and still. “The spirits have granted us seasons of peace and contentment, but that time is over. Yesterday, we came across a beast that took the lives of some of our brothers.”

  There was a wail from the crowd and many bent to the ground and touched it, whispering words to the dead.

  “We have an enemy once more, and it is time to fight,” said Gray Morning, banging his fists together. “We believe the beast we found is not the only of its kind. It was trespassing on our territory, and we know there will be others. Today, we ride out and defend our tribe—we defend what is ours!”

  “Hya–Hya–Hya!” the tribe chorused in agreement.

  Ode saw his mother standing with Rippling River behind the chief. Both clung to one another, the blue patterns of their faces trembling with worry.

  “The spirits are on our side,” said Gray Morning. “Our enemy will be easily beaten. We will kneel to no other tribe!”

  Many of the crowd yelped and kicked up their heels in the dewy earth to show their support.

  “The Taone are stronger,” added Blue Moon. “We know this land and it is ours. We will not let it be taken!”

  “My son has spoken,” boomed Gray Morning. “The Taone have spoken. We will fight and leave the enemy bloody!”

  “Hya–Hya–Hya!” chorused the crowd. “Hya–Hya–Hya! Hya–Hya–Hya!”

  Even the children joined in, crying, “Hya–Hya–Hya!” and stamping their little feet. The shouts of the crowd grew louder until they were bouncing off the lake and echoing through the settlement.

  “No!” yelled Ode, and instantly, there was silence.

  The crowd parted until Ode found himself standing before his father. Gray Morning’s eyes darkened and his shoulders hunched with rage.

  “No?” he hissed.

  “No,” Ode repeated, and he felt his fingers tremble like the beginning of a shift, but he used all his willpower to still himself. He would not shift, not this time.

  “We can’t fight these creatures,” he said.

  “What gives you the right to speak?” growled Gray Morning.

  “I know that we can’t fight them because we will lose. I have seen it.”

  Gray Morning roared with anger and charged toward Ode. But he stopped at the last moment. He saw that his son was not afraid and did not cower. Instead, Gray Morning stood puffing into Ode’s face, his whole body clenched with rage.

  “We are unbeatable,” he spat. “We are great fighters!”

  “We do not understand these creatures,” Ode replied, his voice steady and clear while his insides quivered. “They will defeat us.”

  “Us? I see no patterns across your face, birther. What do you know of battles and fighting?”

  “I know that we will fall. I know that if we could speak to them—”

  “Speak to them? We must defeat them!”

  “If you go into battle, you will die.”

  Gray Morning smacked his fist across Ode’s face with a roar. Blood spurted from Ode’s nose and he stumbled to the ground, humiliated. Arrow snarled, but Ode hastily put a hand on the wolf’s bristled shoulder to calm him.

  Gray Morning turned away with a grunt and stalked back to the head of the crowd. “We will fight tomorrow. Sharpen your weapons and ready the horses. Tomorrow, we will win our battle.”

  After a pause, Gray Morning roared, “Now!”

  The people dispersed in a hurry, and Ode climbed back to his feet, blood oozing down his chin and dripping onto his chest. His face burned with pain, but he would not let it show.

  “If it were not for the battle tomorrow, I would have killed you,” said Gray Morning in a low voice.

  The people of the Taone were rushing away and Ode could just about hear his father, though he refused to look at him.

  “We need you to tend to the wounded, birther, but after we win, I can’t see that you will be so necessary. We only need one birther, and I think we have one too many.”

  With that, Gray Morning strode away and through a blur of angry tears, Ode saw the feathers of his father’s headdress ruffle in the morning breeze.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Battle

  That night Ode did not dream. He already knew what would happen. Instead, he woke in darkness, his mind and body empty.

  “Are you ready, little man?”

  The sound of Cala moving about the tent had woken him and he peered through the gloom in the direction of her voice.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “The men are leaving for battle now, and we will follow them.”

  Ode slumped back on his bedroll. “Let them die,” he said. “They wish me dead.”

  “You want your people to die? You want your dar and your brother to fall?”

  There was a pause.

  “No,” he said at last.

  “Then hurry.”

  Ode dressed quickly, but as he pulled his tunic over his head, the collar caught the side of his nose and it throbbed with pain.

  “Where were you yesterday?” he asked. He had not seen Cala in the afternoon or the evening, and he had fallen asleep waiting for her to return.

  “I was thinking.”

  “Did you see what happened in the morning?”

  “I saw, but I could not help you.”

  “What if he had killed me?”

  Cala turned to her apprentice and the whites of her eyes shone in the darkness. “He would not have killed you,” she said. “He would never do that, little man. But shut your mouth now and follow quietly.”

  They slid into the blackness outside, Arrow a step behind them like a shadow. Ode could hear the distant hoofbeats of the horses as the warriors rode away from the settlement toward certain death. The tribesmen had spent yesterday preparing for the fight. They had gathered their weapons and painted black and red slashes across the blue patterns of their bodies to mark them for war. Gray Morning had announced they would leave before sunrise and he had forbidden the women and children to rise from their bedrolls and bid their loved ones farewell. He had insisted there was no need. The tribesmen would return before sunset the next day, triumphant.

  Cala and Ode walked through a sea of tents that were carefully silent. Ode was sure that the occupants were awake, but none dared to disobey the chief’s orders and come out. Ode suspected they were whispering to the spirits for safety instead and waiting for sunrise with gritted teeth.

  Cala pointed at two of the packhorses used for carrying her chests and Ode climbed onto the back of the nearest. He had never been granted a horse of his own so he was not an accomplished rider, but the packhorses were stocky and easy to steer.
They were none too keen on Arrow, however, who trotted at their side.

  In a patter of hoofbeats, Cala and Ode cantered away from the settlement, following the trail of the tribesmen. Ode glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping tents beside the wide lake. The first rays of the sun would soon hit the water and make the light jump across its gentle waves. Before long the women would arise and light the fires for the day; the elderly would congregate by the shore, telling stories of old and watching over the children as they played. It would be almost like the thousands of days before it, but it would be the last of its kind. Their lives would never be the same again.

  Ode knew it, because he had dreamed it.

  Ode and Cala rode with Arrow loping along beside them for some time as the sun came up and as light splashed across the flatlands. They were heading toward the forest that stood beside the winding river and marked the end of the Taone territory. It stretched across the horizon like a fat green snake, thickening as they grew closer.

  “Where will they fight?” asked Ode.

  They had been riding silently since they left the settlement and his voice took his mare by surprise, causing her ears to flick back and her step to falter.

  “You tell me,” replied Cala. “You dreamed it.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  Ode suspected she was not being completely truthful. He knew that she had felt uneasy these past few days, too.

  “The battle was in a land I had never seen before,” he said. “It was … rocky and dark red.”

  “Then it must be on the other side of the forest.”

  “But that isn’t the Taone territory.”

  “Gray Morning wants a battle, and if he has to go and seek it, then he will.”

  Ode sighed. He knew that she was right.

  As they approached the treeline, they slowed their horses to a brisk walk. The packhorses’ necks were dark with sweat, and Arrow was panting heavily behind. As soon as they were beneath the canopy of leaves, Cala suggested they stop to rest.

  The morning was sunny and in the shady forest, the day was pleasant and bright. Ode could scarcely believe that blood and defeat awaited them.